


The Paris Shake

by thepeopletoomustrise



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Gen, enjolras ends up naked always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 11:06:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepeopletoomustrise/pseuds/thepeopletoomustrise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Les Amis resort to psychological warfare: the whole barricade does The Harlem Shake. </p><p>The National Guard is terrified.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Paris Shake

**Author's Note:**

> Canon!Era but pure crack. As in, somehow, they have a stereo and crap. You get it. 
> 
> What is this.

Les Amis finally decide how to take down the National Guard once and for all. Their tactic is so vicious, so absolutely terrifying to the point of trepidation; a method so purely horrifying that they know it will positively send the guard into a state of shock whereas their brains will not know how to handle what they see.

 

It was Enjolras’ idea from a week prior, and it nearly sent Les Amis all into shock just from hearing him say it:

 

_“Citizens, it is time to utilize the ultimate battle power that has gone untouched until now – psychological warfare. The kind of war that wages on both body and mine until the enemy is quivering and retreating in a blend of fear and shock, the kind of strategy that will send them so deep into despair they will not be able to recover from such madness. It is time, Citizens, to embark in the Harlem Shake.”_

So here they are, marked in their normal positions on the barricade (except for Enjolras as he is in the Musain), holding their muskets and positioned as if waiting for battle. All of them manage to keep straight faces to the best of their ability in an effort to hide the impending battle strategy – well, all except Courfeyrac, who cannot seem to stop laughing therefore is hidden behind a mattress where the Guard is unable to see his shaking ribs.

 

“You at the barricades, listen to this!” a thunderous voice echoes from the Guard’s position, and the men look out at their enemies. “No one is coming to help you to fight! You’re all alone, you-“

 

And then Jehan clicks the play button on the stereo system, and the music starts enter the scenario.

 

Enjolras emerges from the Musain, dressed in nothing but a toga made from a red flag and wearing a National Guard helmet. He prances up the barricade, shaking his butt of which is tightly enclosed in the red fabric, and does a few body rolls up to the tip of the barricade Soon he’s on the tip top, shimmying his chest for the Revolution in a very flamboyant fashion, and the boys around him struggle to remain still in their ‘normal’ positions. _Not until the chorus,_ he had instructed, _will you pull out your secret weapons. Until then, act as you normally would in such a situation._

 

The National Guard looks on in absolute shock, many with jaws hanging ajar and guns fallen to the ground.

 

Enjolras gyrates his hips in a rhythmic fashion that nearly makes every man fall off his place at the barricade and runs hands up the flag on his body, feeling the thrill of devoting such movements to his country and to his patria, reveling in having the symbol of the Revolution wrapped around his skin.

 

But then the chorus hits, and suddenly, everyone jumps up, reaching for their costumes and tossing them on in a blink of an eye.

 

The techno music pounds rhythmically, shaking the windows of the Musain and sending waves of bass through the street. If the Guard was not in utter shock before, now, there is the loud clatter of muskets dropped to the ground.

Courfeyrac comes running out of his hiding spot in a pair of leather underwear and flails his arms where he’s holding women’s corsets, twirling them around his head and cheering loudly as if to symbolically represent His Life.

 

Jehan is wearing a flower headband and a purple leotard, doing ballerina pliés and twirling atop a broken mattress box with his hands elegantly above his head. Bossuet is next to him, rubbing his shiny bald head and doing some sort of foreign tribal dance with his feet.

 

And then there’s Bahorel who’s wearing a gorilla suit and holding a chair over his head. Feuilly is wearing a tutu. 

 

Grantaire (passed out moments before) is ripping his shirt off and letting out a battle cry, proceeding to hip thrust against his bottle of wine. Enjolras sees this and scowls, especially when Grantaire is getting closer in his drunken stupor.

 

Valjean is tossing baguettes above his head and tap dancing atop a chair. No one knows exactly who he is, but no one really cares regardless.

 

Joly is wearing a surgical mask and spraying the air with disinfectant (he insisted it was considered a dance move) and Courfeyrac is sprayed in the face and ends up running in circles and howling with stinging eyes. Combeferre is behind them, doing nothing but spinning relentlessly and flailing his limbs in awkward ways. He had not been talked into wearing an ‘unsophisticated’ suit, not even for the Revolution, but that certainly didn’t mean he couldn’t dance.

 

And then there’s Awkward Marius, next to Awkward Valjean, who is fist pumping the air and waving a handkerchief around his head. (He gets dizzy, though, and throws up behind the barricade a few moments later.)

 

Suddenly, the techno music comes to a loud stop, and every Amis stares in the direction of the stereo. There stands the Spy Javert, and he hollers, “Stop, in the name of the Law!”

 

All of them freeze, and it’s quite a sight indeed – Grantaire grinding against a toga wearing Enjolras, Marius throwing up over the side of the barricade, Jehan in the middle of what looks like an interpretive ballet dance, Courfeyrac holding the women’s undergarments – and they stare at the spy who cut off their music. Enjolras glares.

 

“Citizen, I order you in the name of the Republic to remove your hand from the pause button!”

 

Javert looks up at them, looks up at Valjean who is rubbing the Puking Marius’s back, and grits his teeth, “There is no public flash mobs permitted on the streets of Paris!” The whole barricade erupts in laughter, and Javert fumes, “What?! Do not mock me! I am the Law and the Law is not _mocked!”_

 

“But Monsieur,” Courfeyrac cries, his body shaking with laughter, “This is not a flash mob, it is merely a Harlem Shake!”

 

“I give not a crap what this monstrosity is,” replies the Spy, “It is a disruption to the general public and needs to be exterminated! Cease your flailing or face the wrath of the law, immediately!”

 

It’s quiet for a moment, and the Amis look at each other uneasily. It’s Combeferre who eventually speaks up, “Do you not want to be included in this moment of History, Inspector?” All eyes go to him, who is sweating with dancing exertion.

 

“I do not partake in such vile activities.”

 

“There are no impure actions going on here,” Combeferre remarks. “Monsieur, please calm down; we invite you to join our moment which will surely be written in history books for the rest of time. If you would like to have your mark made in history and have your philosophy of the law to be spread, why don’t you join us?”

 

Enjolras stares at Combeferre, his mouth agape, “You cannot invite The Spy to partake in such Revolutionary fervor! His intentions are malicious!”

 

“I’m not the one wearing the flag,” remarks Combeferre, which rewards him with a fiery glare from his friend. But, he does have a point.

 

“You are all imbeciles,” the Inspector spits through his teeth, “I condemn you.” He looks up at Jean Valjean, who is holding the bread, and glares incredulously, “Ah, once a thief, always a thief! Have you stolen that, too?” The barricade and the guard turn to look at the man standing next to Marius, who had started dancing again although the music was stopped.

 

“I have not. I was given it by citizens of this fine city.”

 

Meanwhile, Jehan has snuck behind the Inspector and clicked the play button. The flailing resumes, and the barricade shakes with dancing men, kicking and jumping and gyrating and swinging. The National Guard is still not moving, in awe of the sight before their eyes that seems so impossible, it can barely be believed.

 

It is then when Grantaire screams, “For the Revolution!” and yanks the red flag from Enjolras’ body.

 

 


End file.
